Julian had been driving for half an hour or so when the lights of another car sparked briefly in his rearview mirror.
Just another motorist braving the fog. No need to be alarmed.
He eased his foot down on the throttle and accelerated out of a tight curve.
The lights vanished from his mirror.
Five minutes went by. Ten. The lights from the other vehicle flashed again, briefly, in the mirror. Again he accelerated. Again the lights disappeared.
He sped up but almost immediately had to brake for a sharp curve in the road. The tires squealed in protest. There was no barrier at the edge of the pavement. If he miscalculated, he risked going off the high cliffs. He would plunge straight down onto the rocks at the water’s edge.
He came out of the next curve a little too fast and immediately had to stomp on the brakes again. He glanced at the mirror. The lights were gone.
There was no wailing siren. The other car didn’t seem to be trying to overtake him. Not the cops, he told himself. Just another late-night driver trying to make it to L.A. by dawn.
But the fog was growing thicker now. He could not risk driving any faster.
The thrill of his escape from Burning Cove faded.
He started to sweat but he reminded himself that he was driving the fastest car in California. So much power under the hood. He could outrun any other vehicle on the road.